I’ll admit it, I’m a happy crier.
I’ll admit even more: I’m a happy crier who used to mock my own mother’s “isn’t this beautiful” welling-up at ads, movies, D.A.R.E. graduations, and so on.
But in light of the fact that there’s been so much sad crying lately (and angry crying and incredulous crying and and and…), I’ll cheerfully put my reformed ways out in the open.
Most recently, I happy-cried at the Goodman’s beautiful ‘A Christmas Carol,’ during the scene where young Ebenezer Scrooge and young Belle meet and dance and begin their “what if” at Fezziwig’s party. I’ve seen a multitude of productions, but this one imbues a really lovely moment- and score- into this ultimately hopefully moment. There’s something so stunningly great about hope, and possibility, and the idea of connection in an all-too-often cold world, and sure, perhaps I’m also crying because I KNOW HOW IT ENDS BUT GIVE ME THIS, OKAY?
Also: seeing my kids write their recipes for a wonderful holiday season and including things like “being together” and “love” with zero prompting from me AT. ALL.
There are very few instances where Will Ferrell has made me cry, happily or otherwise, but full disclosure, here: In ‘Elf,’ when Christmas cheer and caroling enables Santa’s defunct sleigh to soar over the head of previously jaded New Yorkers, well, that plus Buddy the Elf’s astonished joy as he waves back down to his loved ones over the side of the sleigh…those add up to snarfy tears. (The kind where my six year-old needs to remind me that “this is a funny movie.”)
Please don’t think that music is exempt from my aggressive emoting. When any singer (but, let’s be honest, mostly Josh Groban) hits the super-duper high note in ‘O Holy Night,’ I just become a bawling mess. I’ll fully admit it- that one confuses me, too. And I’ll add more fuel to the “my mother was right” fire by apologizing for the eye-rolls when she teared up at any rendition of ‘Mary, did you know.’ I KNOW, YOU GUYS, I KNOW IT’S MEANT TO PLAY ON EMOTIONS. But after becoming a parent (gag, yes, gahhh), you realize that no parent “knows” anything, ever ever ever. And it humanizes an aspect of the Christmas story which is all-too easy to gloss over, and oh man, I love my children a painful amount.
“Home for the holidays” ads can suck it, though.
(I’m just kidding, I probably love those best of all.)
Your turn now. What makes you cry so hard your throat hurts at the beauty of it all?
(It’s okay, you can say “Josh Groban,” too.)
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